


The Gift of Talking to Horses

by AlamoDraft



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Brothers, Horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlamoDraft/pseuds/AlamoDraft
Summary: Young John Marston just can't seem to get along with horses, while his older brother, Arthur, can turn any loco mustang into a well mannered trail horse within seconds. When Arthur decides to teach young John about the nature of horses, things go wrong leaving their relationship slightly on edge.
Relationships: John Marston & Van der Linde Gang, Young John Marston - Relationship
Kudos: 16





	The Gift of Talking to Horses

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that studies the brotherhood between Marston and Morgan, nothing too crazy-very fluff based! I came up with this story on a whim, and I really liked how it turned out for the most part. Also just as an FYI, I've simplified a lot of the horse training aspects of this story, so don't try this at home. I took a lot of the info from my own experience around horses as well as educational videos/seminars I've had the pleasure of viewing. It takes a lot of time and patience to train a wild horse, but of course for the story's sake it has been simplified significantly.

“John! John!” A voice roared. Suddenly, the bay roan mare ripped herself from a thirteen year old John Marston’s hands, sending the boy forward onto his stomach. The mare galloped away from John, and the older of the two boys ran after her on horseback. John begrudgingly dusted himself off with an unbreakable frown on his face. He stiffly made his way to his rickety old paint gelding, Patches, forcing the gelding into a gimpy lope.  


Once horse and rider had made it to the top of the hill, John could see his brother, Arthur, had caught the frightened mare. The young man held firm to the lasso tethered to the panicked mare, and spoke kindly to her while trying to offer his hand for her to smell. She backed away from the sandy haired boy, but he kept moving his horse closer to her. Whenever she stopped backing away, the young man would back his own horse away, releasing the pressure. After several minutes of doing the odd ritual, the mare gave into her curiosity and sniffed his hand before hesitantly allowing him to pet her neck.  


Meanwhile, John stood up on the hill, jealous of his brother and hurting from his burned hands. He didn’t have long to wallow in pity, for another voice sounded over the hill, “Arthur! John! Where’d you two run off to?” John knew who that voice belonged to. It didn’t take long for a more mature dark haired man to come waltzing over the hill, twirling about a silver pocket watch in hand.  


“Arthur, just wanted to tame this nag, Dutch. Stupid thing ain’t worth nothing except supper for a dog.” John snapped. Dutch found amusement in the teen, and he playfully ruffled up John’s hair before returning John’s hat to his head. A smile didn’t dare cross his face, and he only became more sour as Arthur triumphantly met up with the other two.  
“Arthur, what a gift you have my boy.” Dutch grinned. Dutch’s praise caused John’s face to turn red, resembling a kettle fixing to blow. “She’s just a little hard headed is all. It also helps when idiots don’t freak em out.” Arthur shot John a playful look. Unlike Arthur, John didn’t find the exchange funny whatsoever, and he finally caved to his temper. He aggressively snatched Patches' reins, causing the gelding to throw his head in surprise. He stormed off from the conversation, Patches in tow, and felt his face burn from Dutch’s entertained chortle.  


Later that afternoon, Arthur found Marston sitting underneath a tree; the younger of the two brothers incessantly cutting jagged lines into the trunk. “If you keep that up, it is bound to fall on your head.” Arthur teased. John’s neutral expression reverted to the sour one from earlier, but his blatant dislike for Arthur certainly didn’t deter the older boy. Arthur simply shook his head before placing a cigarette in between his lips.  


The two boys just remained in one another’s presence without exchanging a single word. Smoke billowing from Arthur’s lips while he watched the sunset. The dancing clouds of smoke allured John, and he decided to try and repair his bruised “manhood”. “Gimme one of those.” He demanded before getting up. Arthur smirked from his demand, “Go get your own runt.” John’s brow furrowed before he lunged for the pack of cigarettes. He wasn’t sure if his brother allowed him to snatch them or if he’d truly outwitted him, but he was able to take ownership over the battered box of cigs.  


Proudly, John shoved one of the cigarettes in his mouth and popped a lighter out of his pocket. “How did you get ahold of that?” Arthur folded his arms before leaning back against the tree. “Stole it off a rich feller in Blackwater.” John bragged. With inexperienced hands, John fiddled with the lighter before finally getting the cigarette to light. He’d smoked cigarettes before, but most of the time it was just for show. Usually he’d extinguish them after the first couple puffs, but today he had something to prove. John started puffing on the cigarette while Arthur patiently waited for what he knew was bound to happen. Despite his best efforts, John couldn’t subdue his coughs, and Arthur pitied his little brother. The sandy haired young man offered his canteen, and John hurriedly downed some water. Embarrassment constricted him, but Arthur showed no signs of judgement.  


“Why can’t I talk to horses like you?” John sighed. Arthur reassuringly patted his shoulder, “You don’t talk to em, ya listen. Don’t expect to out muscle a hunk of horse flesh because you will lose.” John was clearly listening, but Arthur could tell the teenager was still having a hard time with the concept. “Come on, I’ll show ya.” Arthur nudged him before heading down the path back to camp.  


The roan mare had been secured in a corral near camp, she hadn’t stopped hollering since Arthur had put her in there. She just kept pacing the perimeter, longing to be around other horses. When she saw Arthur coming towards the corral with John tailing behind him, she became even more skittish.  


“Now, you best listen to everything I say because we don’t got all day.” Arthur motioned to the setting sun before fetching his lasso. John didn’t say anything in return, for his nerves were beginning to get the better of him. He hated to admit it, but horses did have a tendency to scare him. Arthur could turn any bloodthirsty nag into a mewling kitten within minutes, all John seemed to do was only anger them more. The rare occasions when Arthur taught him anything were far outweighed by Dutch’s consistent gun training. Arthur handled the horses, Dutch handled gunmanship, and Hosea handled hunting. The last two usually took precedence over the first.  


If there was a problem with a horse or a new one needed breaking in, Arthur took care of it, to the leaders of camp there wasn’t a reason for John to spend hours out of the day training under Arthur. The only horse he had to concern himself with was Patches, an old paint gelding Dutch had bought off a meat man for a pair of new socks. Patches certainly wasn’t a bad horse, he had the typical vices of a horse beyond his prime: lazy, slow, and sleepy. A young man's worst idea of a horse.  


Like most boys his age, John yearned for a fast and spirited horse-maybe a thoroughbred or an arabian. He’d never gotten the chance to ride one, but he’d seen them a handful of times over the camp’s travels. Dutch liked to take the boys to the racetrack every now and then, easy pickings off mostly intoxicated track rats. Sometimes Arthur and John would get distracted watching the race themselves, seeing some of the top racers of the nation compete. While Arthur valued the beauty in pedigreed horses, John focused more so on the brutal behavior of the jockeys and the danger of it all. He wished he could be brave around horses, honestly he wished he could be more like Arthur.  


“You paying attention, Marston?” Arthur elbowed John. “You stay there. Make sure you listen now, I’m missing supper for this.” John timidly nodded while Arthur slipped inside the pen. The mare was going berserk again, running as fast as she could in tight quarters while searching for a way out.  


Inside the corral, Arthur remained completely calm while John observed from the safety of the fence. The older brother continued to move the horse with pressure, making sure to keep her going and turning her in different directions with his body. Carefully, she hugged the perimeter, going at an exhausted and flighty walk while Arthur stayed behind her drive line. When she gave Arthur both eyes, he showed his back and stepped away from her, creating an invisible draw. The mare turned in towards him, considering the idea of following him until she finally did so. “You see how she gave me both eyes? I want her to see that the answer isn’t beyond the corral, its right here.” Arthur instructed. Arthur had done it again, it was almost like he put the mare under a spell of sorts. “Now, come here and I’ll show ya how it’s done.” Arthur motioned for John.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it ended on a cliffhanger of sorts, but as of now I felt it best to end the story there. Depending on how I feel, I might add more to this story. Thank you for reading my story! I want to apologize for any grammatical errors, wrote this at four a.m, so I may have missed some errors when reviewing it. I also can't for the life of me figure out how to indent on here omg. This is just for fun, and keep in mind this is my first time ever posting. Hope you enjoyed and have a great rest of your day.


End file.
